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Saturday, June 26, 2004

It’s my fifth year here. I don’t do I.V. anymore, unless it’s friends holding the party. But most of my remaining friends moved downtown. The house has changed so goddamn much, and no one but me has any interest in keeping the place clean — or even sanitary. Sample conversation:

“Hey, Phil, is this your chicken in the refrigerator?” “Yeah.” “Well, you can’t keep uncovered raw chicken out like that. It’s not safe.” “Oh, because bacteria could grow in it?” “No, because there’s salmonella in the chicken already and it contaminates other food.” “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

I don’t like feeling like an RA or a mom, but I feel like I have to to keep my stuff from being trashed. I’m living in a different world than the kids I’m sharing the house with.